From One Generation to Another Part 39

Mrs. Agar was now beginning to realise what was at stake. The mother's love was re-awakening. The old cunning look came into her eyes, and her quick, truthless mind was evidently on the alert. There was something animal-like in Mrs. Agar; but she was of the lower order of animal, that seeks to defend its young by cunning and not by sheer bravery.

Ruthine must have guessed at something, for he said at once:

"Remember what you have told me. You will have to repeat that exactly.

Add nothing to it, take nothing from it, or you will spoil it. Tell me, has your son seen this man more than once?"

"No, only once; at Cambridge."

"All right; I think I shall be able to prove it."

As he spoke he went towards the writing-table and, sitting down, he wrote out a prescription. Dora followed him and held out her hand for the paper.

"Send for that at once, please," he said.

Then he beckoned to Jem.

"I have sent for the local doctor," he said to him. "But I should advise having some one else--Llandoller from Harley Street. This is far above our heads."

"Telegraph for him," answered Jem Agar.

While Ruthine wrote he went on speaking.

"We must get him upstairs at once," he said. "I should like to have him in bed before the doctor comes."

In answer to the bell, rung a second time, the servant came, looking white and scared.

"Show Dr. Ruthine Mr. Arthur's room," said Jem; and Ruthine took Arthur up in his arms like a child.

When they had gone there was a silence. Mrs. Agar made no attempt to follow. She sat down again on the sofa, swaying backwards and forwards.

Perhaps she was dimly aware that there remained something still to be said.

Jem Agar crossed the room and stood in front of her. Dora, from the background, was pleading with her eyes for this woman. There were the makings of a very hard man in James Edward Makerstone Agar, and seven years of the grimmest soldiering of modern days had done nothing to soften him. He was strictly just; but it is not justice that women want.

To all men there comes a time when they recognise the fact that all their time and all their energies are required for the taking care of _one_ woman, and that all the rest must take care of themselves.

"You may stay," he said to his step-mother, "until Arthur is removed from this house--but no longer. I shall never pretend to forgive you, and I never want to see you again."

Mrs. Agar made no answer, nor did she look up.

"Go," said Jem, with a little jerk of his head towards the door.

Slowly she rose, and without looking at either of them she pa.s.sed out of the room.

When, at last, they were left alone in the quiet library where they had played together as children, where the happiest moments of his life and the most miserable of hers had been lived through.

Dora did not seem to know quite what to do. She was standing by the writing-table, with one hand resting on it, facing him, but not looking at him. She suddenly felt unable to do that--felt at a loss, abashed, unequal to the moment.

But Jem seemed to have no hesitation. He was quite natural and very deliberate. He seemed to know quite well what to do. He closed the door behind Mrs. Agar, and then he came across the room and took Dora in his arms, as if there were no question about it. He said nothing. After all, there was nothing to be said.

THE END